


Hypo

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 12:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10437468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: The first time unmasked.





	

She can tell he’s exhausted, even if he’s trying to pretend he isn’t. His shoulders slump very slightly, his feet drag, and his words are minutely slurred. It isn’t until she hears the loud rumble from his belly that she realises…

“Sir…”  


“What?”  


“When did you last eat?”  


To ask him personal questions is so far beyond acceptable protocol as to probably be risking a reconditioning. They’ve worked alongside one another long enough for her to think it’s… needed. No one else would ask him, and…

“What?”  


“Your blood sugar is probably low. You should eat.”  


For a moment, he just freezes. She isn’t sure he’s processed her words properly, but then he grunts, and shakes his head. A hand lifts, and gestures. “This makes it… difficult.”

“I can lock the door, so no one comes in,” she offers. “I can look away, if you’re…” Is he disfigured, underneath, like the whispers say he is? She has no clue, and really… this could have been an ideal ploy on her part to get him unmasked. It isn’t. She just wants him to be okay.  


He waves a moment more, and then nods. He really _must_ be feeling faint, and she turns to lock the controls to keep people out. The temptation to turn is so very, very strong, but her resolve must hold out. She’s two beats away from having her mind wiped, and–

“Aren’t you going to join me?”  


Unmasked, his voice is still deep. It lacks the metallic reverb, but it’s still him. Gulping, she turns to look, and sees…

Nothing like she expected. Not that she really _knew_ (and her mental image shifted every other day), but he’s… he’s… damn. A face full of contradictions, and all of them somehow work. A nose that won’t let her leave, eyes that look… sad? Lips that she’s weirdly compelled to touch, and hair that bounces like it hasn’t just been inside a helmet for an unspeakable number of hours.

He’s. He’s. Something.

Phasma realises she’s staring, and pulls her hands up to her face. She’s _never_ flustered like this, so she’s embarrassed as she clips it open, and reveals her own face. Plain, to her eyes, with military-functional hair. She never has to school her expression any more, but now she does and she’s fighting the need to flush horribly.

When their eyes meet, she’s surprised to see something almost like surprise - pleased surprise - on his face. For the longest time, neither of them remember why they’ve unmasked, but then reality kicks her into action, and she bustles past him to get some snacks out. The emergency field rations kind, but the ones that actually _taste_ of something. She offers him one, and when their gloved hands brush, she swears it’s like a thunderstorm.

“…thanks,” he says, and starts to eat.  


She does as well, but slower… no need to choke in front of him. 

This is going to make things so, so much harder.


End file.
